


Life in the Sun

by Delenn (goddessdel)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Episode: s06e17 Normal Again, Gen, Normal Again AU, This ended up more gen than originally intended, implied spuffy under the hood, not as angsty as may appear?, terrible approximation of a psych ward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-06 03:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11027964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdel/pseuds/Delenn
Summary: AU after 'Normal Again.' Buffy wakes up alone and cold, back in that 'normal' world. What's happened? Buffy can't remember. What does she know? Her new therapist is eerily similar to someone from her other life.





	1. Day 1: Session Log Started, 9:58am.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an AU of 'Normal Again', where Buffy finds herself in the "normal" world. This fic is finally completed, though much shorter than initially anticipated. If anyone is still reading this, apologies for a truly unacceptable delay, but I hope the ending is at least somewhat satisfying. If anyone is interested in the original plot outline, I can give the broad strokes.
> 
> Date Started/Date Finished: February 5th 2003/July 4th 2016.

“Ms. Summers, our session is almost over. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to say?”

 

Buffy stared wide-eyed at the person, taking in all their words as usual, but unable to form her own. She had been crying, and she was going to cry again, very soon. Buffy wanted - more than anything - she wanted to go home.

 

She couldn’t understand why she was here; it was scary and harsh. The person was worse, so she looked down at the couch and said nothing. It wasn’t like she had anything productive to say, ‘Hi, I want to go back, I hate being here.’ She could see how she would get points there.

 

“I’m sorry, Ms. Summers, that you aren’t ready to talk to me. Our session is over. You’ll be escorted back to your room, and I will see you tomorrow at the same time.”

 

Buffy felt herself nodding, blankly, because she wasn’t ready to talk. Buffy guessed she would - talk that was - later, but not right now. Because she couldn’t remember up until an hour ago, and it was raw and painful that she was still here. All Buffy wanted to do was curl up in that horrible room that was ‘hers’ and cry into one of the starched white pillows.

 

The white-clad person stood up, coat rustling against the seat, and motioned towards the door. A guard came in and helped Buffy up, half dragging her out the door.

 

Buffy made no move to protest, not ready to face even her own weakness here - not ready to face anything.

 

As the door closed, the person sat back down, sighing deeply before turning towards the mirror and loudly asking, “Send the next patient in, please.”


	2. Day 2: Session Log Started, 9:02am.

“So, Ms. Summers, how are you feeling today?”

 

Buffy was staring up at the white-coated person in abject horror, everything about them making her want to curl up in a little ball and cry over her lost world. But she couldn’t. She didn’t even know why she was back here - the last thing she remembered was Willow coming in with medicine that would make this world go away. Now she was here and, apparently, so was someone else.

 

That someone else was staring at her with a slight smirk that should be patented, and stern wire glasses on their face that actually made everything about them sharper. Buffy wasn’t ready for that, and definitely wasn’t ready to read the nametag. She could tell the person was waiting for a response. “Fine, I guess.”

 

The person gave a little sigh - a disbelieving sigh - but quickly moved on, jotting notes down on a clipboard. “Ms. Summers, can you tell me what you remember from the last time you were _here_ , up until our session yesterday?”

 

Buffy scrunched up her nose in concentration; that was the problem - she didn’t remember anything. “I was… back… and they were making something for me to drink, so I could stay there. Then I woke up here, and the doctor came in. They told me I was back and needed to come see you.”

 

“Do you remember anything between that? It seems like there is a slight gap in time.”

 

Buffy sighed. Her eyes were puffy and her hair was straggly, flopping in her face. She wanted to go to her house and see them, get dressed and go back to her life. Apparently, though, she had to be cooperative here for that to happen, because it didn’t look like she was going _home_ any time soon, even though her every thought was focus on that slim possibility. Buffy blew the hair out of her face with a loud huff. “No. I can’t remember. I was just here,” she hastily amended at the look she received, “back here, that is.”

 

“Is there anything you would like to discuss with me before our session ends?” That look again, only it was more pitiful now; Buffy felt pitied.

 

Well, Buffy figured that if she was going to get that person’s pity, she was at least going to get something out of it. She could feel the Slayer rearing her head, frustrated - demanding. “When can I go home to my parents?”

 

“Ms. Summers,” this was followed by a heavy sigh, “while it is reassuring to see you showing some confidence and drive to get back to your family, I am well aware of your case, and I am far from convinced that you have put your delusions behind you. This is only our first session. For our session tomorrow, I would like you to think of some things you liked about that world and some things you disliked, and then we will discuss them.”

 

Buffy deflated, just like that. The Slayer was just a puff of air now. If she couldn't get out by being strong, and pity wasn’t getting her anywhere, for the first time she felt it was possible that they would never let her go. “Okay.” It slipped out, quiet, against her will, “Do you think I’m crazy?”

 

The Voice – as Buffy had started thinking of the person, so she didn’t have to think about it – was somewhat startled sounding. “Of course not. I think you have a disease that caused a very traumatic six years for you. That’s all the time we have today, Ms. Summers.”

 

That was her cue to leave, so Buffy nodded to The Voice and got up from her couch. At the door, an orderly met her and led her back to her room. At least she didn't have to be dragged today - baby steps, right?

 

There was nothing to do, the window was high and barred, and the only thing in the room was her bed. Buffy sighed in annoyance, wishing there was some way to convince her counselor that she could get out of there. She had to get out of there. She had to get _home_.


	3. Day 3: Session Log Started, 8:08am.

It took Buffy a couple minutes to get settled in the thin plastic chair. The room itself even unnerved her, from the sterile metal table to the mirrored wall that obviously hid viewers behind it.

 

The Voice started cheerfully enough, as if determined to combat her nerves. “So, Ms. Summers, have you thought about what I suggested the last time we talked?”

 

Instead of the carefully thought over list that Buffy had prepared for this, every word planned to make her seem normal, she blurted out, “I saw my parents again yesterday.”

 

“Oh,” The Voice strove to maintain a professional level of interest - not to push her - and kept it fairly well. “Would you like to talk about that first? We have two hours today.”

 

Buffy struggled to forget the people behind the mirror and tried to remember that this person already knew everything about her - she didn’t have to be guarded. “It was after our talk. I was asleep, and then there was knocking and they were just there. We talked - well they talked, really. It was a whole talky-thing, yesterday. Who would've thought.”

 

“And how did that make you feel?”

 

She cringed at that statement, made so professionally, and so very like a psychiatrist. “Honestly? Good, not so much. I was nervous.” Buffy made a conscious effort to pretend that The Voice was a friend of hers, “It’s hard, you know, seeing them, and I was afraid to say something crazy-sounding - so I didn’t say anything. Not sure that helped with the whole not-seeming-crazy plan.”

 

A slight clicking of the pen to paper was the first sign Buffy had of life from The Voice, that it was a normal person, who probably went home to a normal family after dealing with all the crazies. “I understand that in the world created in your head, your mother was dead, and your father was not in your life?” At her nod, The Voice continued, “What were you afraid of saying?”

 

They were careful not to make assumptions about her reasons, Buffy noticed. But the reason was probably pretty obvious, and that bugged Buffy. She didn’t want to make the obvious, crazy reason, so she said the other one. “I guess - I was afraid of being too needy and scaring them off. I mean - I’m like a total stranger to them, right?”

 

“You’re their daughter though; surely you think they love you no matter what.” This was almost whining in its consistency, a begging of normalcy without actually asking, from The Voice.

 

Buffy was hasty to reassure - not too hasty because that would have been bad. All the rules she was making were starting to hurt Buffy’s head. “Oh, I know that. It’s just - I don’t want them to think I’m… weird… I guess.”

 

The Voice kindly dropped a subject she was so unprepared to discuss. “So, then, have you thought about the things you liked and disliked about that world? I would like you to give them to me one at a time, with the reason you liked or disliked them, and then we will discuss each point further.”

 

Buffy nodded, even though she knew it wasn’t actually open for debate - she had to agree or she would never get out of there. “I liked having a little sister. It was kind of neat being role-model Buffy. I mean, sure, it could be a lot of pressure - but what else was new? It was a good motivator - like, I couldn’t go out and party all night and act all college-y and stupid because she might think that was okay if I did.” She was trying to focus on normal-sounding reasons, normal-sounding things. "Not that I ever did that - I wasn't a party-girl or anything, there. Just a hypothetical example."

 

The Voice seemed both pleased and dismayed with her answer, and Buffy wondered if maybe she should have started with something else. “The sister, her name was Dawn, right?”

 

At her nod The Voice continued, “Having a little sister can be very stressful. Having to be the role model for her, as you said, sometimes it feels like you have to be perfect. Especially when all the responsibilities are yours, as when your mother died there, right?” The pause seemed to be more for her sake then a need of reassurance. “Dawn was always there, right, Ms. Summers - always needing you to protect her. You even died there for her, and had to come back because she relied on you so completely. Do you remember what you saw when you believed yourself to be in heaven?”

 

That stung, deeper then Buffy would have thought. She loved Dawn. She had tried so hard not to resent her - she knew that it wasn’t Dawn’s fault she had come back, but she had stayed for Dawn and…. for Dawn was enough, she scolded herself at where her thoughts were taking her. “Heaven?” she struggled to remember the question, “Mom was there, and it was so bright and sunny and happy. It was like total whiteness. I don’t really remember it better then that, I don’t like to. Besides, Dawn wasn’t so much of a responsibility; I stayed because of her sure but also… I don’t resent her if that’s what you mean - I was glad to be home.”

 

Sighing, The Voice scribbled on the little clipboard of paper they carried before speaking again. “I’m not trying to force you to discuss something you aren’t ready to. We will talk about everything important in time. All I am trying to do is help you sort your feelings about being here, Ms. Summers.”

 

Buffy let the subject of heaven drop, she didn’t want to know why they had asked, and she didn’t want to know why she couldn’t remember it properly. However, her choice of Dawn as a nice normal pro was no longer quite so appealing as less fond memories of the teenager’s anger at her returned. Oh, and the fact that she didn't have a sister here. That was crazy. The thought made her ache. Deciding to move on to the next subject, Buffy started slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I didn’t like being the Slayer. I know you all must think that I liked the power or something, but I didn’t. That was responsibility. I was responsible for everyone - for complete strangers - and they had to take more importance then the people I loved. I lost people because of that.”

 

This time The Voice was gentler, pleased with her answer, but gentler about the response. “That’s a very good distinction. Sometimes it is hard to give up a reality where you have so much power over life and death; it is tempting to fall back into those ideals. You obviously understand that power is not always a good thing.”

 

Her smile was weak at best; she knew that, Buffy hated having to renounce her life with all its trials and problems because it had great moments too. It may have not held her parents, but she had a sister, friends, loves. Refusing to lose herself in this quest for sanity she announced boldly, “Hey, it would have been better with some recognition. Power with recognition would defiantly have been lapse worthy.”

 

Immediately she clapped her hands over her face, shocked and horrified that her mouth had opened before her brain could edit it, that her words would be taken out of context. Yet, to her surprise The Voice smiled - a grin - a sign of being human. “This is the first sign you have given me, Ms. Summers, of life. You need to be able to speak freely with me or we will not make any progress. Now I think your good mood warrants discussing an important part of your life that you have not yet mentioned.”

 

Holding her breath, Buffy waited, glad that her counselor understood enough not to take her previous words seriously, but terrified at what The Voice would want to discuss. Cautiously, she asked, “Can we please just not?”

 

Exhaling loudly, The Voice clicked the pen a few times, seemingly deep in thought, their words startled Buffy. “You can’t put off the hard stuff forever, Ms. Summers - those are the things that most need discussion.”

 

Nodding her knowledge of that fact, Buffy kept her head down and used her unkempt hair to shield her face from scrutinizing eyes. “Please, can I go now?”

 

A half grunt of disapproval, but assertion nonetheless as The Voice called out, “Will someone come escort Ms. Summers back to her room please?”

 

No goodbyes were exchanged, no promises or threats for tomorrow. The Voice simply sat back in the chair and said nothing, as if waiting for Buffy to say something, but she refused steadfastly. This was what it was like to be insane, Buffy thought - nothing to say on the outside while the voices inside fought with themselves.

 

'I belong here, with the crazies,' was her last thought as the guard came in and led her back to her room.


	4. Day 25: Session Log Started, 8:01am.

“I’m ready.”

 

Buffy looked around. Everything was so different from the home that Buffy was starting to wonder if she would ever be able to see again - and starting to fear she wouldn’t - that it was hard to really remember that she was here, sometimes. Here in this tiny room that could almost look normal, if she wasn't stuck in all white after Labor Day.

 

The Voice had started to show more emotion recently, smiling widely at her proclamation because there is no question of what she was talking about. “That’s good, Ms. Summers.”

 

Buffy looked away. She knew this would be hard, but she'd been told that the quicker she worked through all this stuff the quicker she might get out. “We already talked about Angel, and how Riley and I kinda had to break it off, but we didn’t talk about why. I guess you know. He made life there first terrifying and then just annoying, and then, all of a sudden, we were on the same side, and it was like the unavoidable conclusion of the story that we got together. Didn’t work out real well, then I was here. End of issue.”

 

The Voice had listened to her monologues without expression, and while Buffy knew it appreciated her finally bringing him up - can we say skipping the issues much? “Ms. Summers, I understand that this is hard for you, but that is hardly the 'end of the issue,' as you put it.”

 

Buffy shifted a little, looking around the new 'private' room. No mirrored walls for people to look through - the only way they would know how crazy she was is through The Voice’s notes. “You know all of it,” she accused, though it was soft and weak even to her own ears.

 

“No, not all of it.”

 

Buffy pressed her head back against the chair and tried to pretend that she was here willingly. That she was on some normal soul-searching therapy kick. If she didn't face The Voice, it was easier - so she didn't have to look at someone from that other world. “Uh, okay. Vamp, out to kill me for like the first couple years of meeting me. Didn’t succeed too well, obviously. Of course, I didn’t kill him either, so no big yay for me. Then this government agency, the Initiative, got ahold of him and put this chip in so he couldn’t hurt humans. He started helping us fight the bad guys. Of course there was him going on and on about being in love with me and some major creep action there because, vamps, not big on dating etiquette. But when I came back from... the summer away... he understood. What it was like - to be away. Then we realized that he could hurt me without the major headache, so yay for Buffy coming back wrong, I guess.”

 

“ _Oww, oww, the pain, the pain… is gone._ ”

 

“We kinda started sleeping together after that. Not in a relationship or friendship or anything ship-y, because I knew it was wrong. I was wrong. And then I was here. There’s no end because it didn’t end.”

 

Buffy kept her eyes on the ceiling, not facing The Voice, but she could practically see the look, the clicking of the pen - she had it all memorized, so reminiscent of that other world - that other life. “Ms. Summers,” it starts, “this is a very important part of your delusion, which we need to analyze. The fact that you put yourself in such an intimate position with someone who used to want to kill you, something that you felt such guilt about, shows that you were punishing yourself. That is understandable. Inevitably, every world becomes too complicated, too paranoid, and the maker of it has to destroy it and feels guilt for doing so. You cannot keep a reality running smoothly in your own head - the characters begin to fluctuate. That is probably the basis for your return to reality. The fluctuations came in many forms - the best friend being addicted to magic, for example. What is odd is the seeming genuine attempt at redemption from your lover. Typically, a relationship like that would have been strictly about pain and punishment. Do you understand what I’m trying to explain to you?”

 

“ _I love you…_ ”

 

Buffy was sure The Voice couldn't see her shaking her head the way it was angled. She knew it would defeat all the ‘progress’ she’d made in the last month. Reality, all in her head. It wasn’t in her head - it was real - they were real, and that’s why nobody followed set rules for delusions. That’s why he didn’t follow the rules. “I’d like to go now. We got into it; you can be all analyze-y without me.”

 

She was up and halfway to the door to call for someone to come get her when she heard it. A soft whisper of her name. “Buffy.” It was so real that she spun back around, sure that it was who she'd heard. But still it was just The Voice gazing back at her in slight concern.

 

Staring wide-eyed, she watched The Voice clear their throat and say louder, more professionally, “Ms. Summers, I would like it if you stayed.”

But she was already shaking her head, backing toward the door. No words would come. This was why she hadn't wanted to get into this - why she wouldn't look at The Voice. She was not crazy. She was _not._ They were real. Why else would people from her head be here? Or maybe she was that crazy. Taking real people and turning them into fiction in her head. It used to be so clear, but the longer she was here...

 

Buffy shook her head again, decidedly, and The Voice gave up, pressing the call button for someone to collect her.

 

But this time, walking back, Buffy felt a little more like Buffy. The Buffy she used to be - before she died. She felt like Buffy and Buffy couldn't stop wondering - if The Voice was here, who else was in this world from hers?


	5. Day 174: Session Log Started, 7:58am.

She was ready, really. She'd been taking her medication and they'd let her have visitors and walk around the grounds unsupervised and she was here bright and early and chipper. Did she mention the chipper?

 

"Big day today. How are you feeling, Ms. Summers?"

 

The Voice was smiling at her, cautiously optimistic.

 

Buffy grinned back, determined to put her best chipper foot forward. "Great! 100% sane, only 99% nervous," she joked, then frowned. "In a totally sane, rational way."

 

"It's okay, Ms. Summers. As we've talked about, it's normal to be nervous. The important thing is that you take your medications and reach out for help if you need it. You don't have to go it alone."

 

After all this time The Voice was still carefully formal with her, and Buffy had never been able to bring herself to ask The Voice to use her first name. It was too tempting. Nodding in a careful not-too-chipper-totally-sane way that she'd been practicing, Buffy was quick to agree to just about anything today. "No going it alone girl, that's me. Got it."

 

The Voice shook its head, amused but trying not to show it. "And I'll still see you as an outpatient, once a week to start with, yeah?"

 

More careful head nodding. Buffy fidgeted on her seat, anxious to get this over with. It was all formalities from here on out. Her parents were in the waiting room, ready to take her home. Home.

 

It had taken Buffy a long time to really come to terms with being here. To understand. But one day she'd been talking with her mom and it had all clicked. Those three months in 'heaven' had been here - the sunshine, her mother, the whiteness. How could she want to go back, if it meant leaving her parents behind?

 

 _Dawn_ , a niggling part of her wiggled uncomfortably about. She'd loved Dawn, she had. But she'd only had a kid sister for a really little time, and the memories of her were all jumbled up in her head of memories where she had no sister at all. And did it really even matter, when none of that was real? She wished she had a kid sister to go home to, but she was getting to go home, and that meant more than anything.

 

Even if she had to take medication for the rest of her life, Buffy couldn't imagine leaving her mother, leaving her parents - happy, together - to go back to the pain and darkness inside her head. Not for Dawn. Not for The Voice. And besides, if The Voice was here, maybe the others were too - just waiting for her to find them.

 

First things first, she had to get out of here.

 

"Buffy?"

 

Buffy blinked at her actual name from The Voice, snapping out of her reverie. "Here, present, and accounted for! Sorry, just getting excited about going home."

 

The Voice smiled at her, forgiving her momentary lapse. "Right, well, I don't want to keep you, but I do want to make sure that we have time to discuss anything you might feel the need to before we go get your parents."

 

They'd talked about just about everything over the months. Her life. Her loves. Her friends. Her hopes and fears. How being the Slayer had slowly just erased Buffy until there was nothing left but ugliness. How hard it was every day to take her meds and feel like she was betraying her friends; Dawn. But also how it was getting a little easier every day she got to sit and actually talk with her parents - how they were slowly relearning about each other after all the years of heartache apart. How awkward it was realizing that her dad here was nothing like the one in her head and wasn't going to just abandon her.

 

How every time her mom hugged her she felt so safe she never wanted them to let go.

 

Buffy glanced at her hands, fiddling with the hems of her outfit. It felt weird to be in normal clothes for the first time in months. Especially because the causal jeans and t-shirt weren't exactly her style and were a little too big for her still thin frame. Hopefully she could talk her mom into a mother-daughter bonding shopping trip once she got out. Getting out - it seemed almost too good to be true. "Well, you know: nervous. I'm afraid I'm just gonna be crazy Buffy to everyone... I don't even know anyone here anymore, other than mom and dad. I know it's not going to be all sunshine and flowers out in the Real World. But I'm Plan Girl: study for my GED, start at community college next fall, get back into skating, make with the real friends and figure out how to carefully work that whole - I was in a psychotic state for six years but I'm totally fine now - thing into conversations. Fun times! I know ... I know it has to be one thing at a time, but I just want my life back. My real life."

 

Jotting last notes on the clipboard, The Voice nodded. "All right, I get the point. I won't keep you, Ms. Summers. Your parents are waiting in reception, and I'll walk you out myself. The paperwork was all signed before you came in. You understand that your parents are still your legal guardians for the moment, and there are going to be a lot of restrictions on your activities while you re-acclimate, but I have every faith in you."

 

The Voice stood and opened the heavy metal door with the guards outside. There were no guards today. The Voice gestured for Buffy to go first. "Ready?"

 

The rest of her life was just outside that door. A life without supernatural creatures and the weight of the world on her shoulders. A life where she could just be Buffy, normal California girl - aside from that whole 'she went schizo for six years' thing. 'I can do this. Oh god, can I do this?'

 

The Voice offered her an encouraging smile and Buffy exhaled a deep breath. She could do this - she had to do this.

 

Sunlight was gleaming in the white hallway, and her parents were waiting for her at the other end.

 

"Ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided not to reveal who The Voice was, to let everyone have their own interpretation. So stop here if you don't want to know. This fic was originally meant to be Spuffy, and still has those leanings, though it turned into more of an introspection for Buffy coming to terms with her decision. The Voice, as such, was intended to be an alternate reality version of Spike, but ymmv.


End file.
